Work Text:
Jiang Cheng is conscious of his early arrival to the tranquil section of the pier that became the rendezvous for Lan-zongzhu and him.
He is also aware of the beautiful complex embroidery of blue threads that covers his newly tailored tunic, like a stream of vivid colors traveling the purple layers. The last golden rays of the day highlight the glinting details that are meticulously interlaced over the purple silk.
The sounds of the pier soothe his nerves, and a few minutes pass until he can hear fast steps approaching.
“Jiang-zongzhu! Close your eyes please!”
Jiang Cheng listens to the petition of Lan-zongzhu and awaits with a rush of anticipation.
He feels the delicate fingers braiding a section of his hair he purposely brushed for easy access. The subtle touch lingers for a few seconds. Lan Jingyi has placed the flowers on his hair, close to his cheek, trailing the skin he feels rapidly warming up at the contact. He laments it fades as quick, but knows better than to chase the warmth.
“You can open them now.”
After taking a concealed grounding breath, Jiang Cheng opens his eyes and directs his gaze at Lan Jingyi’s content expression.
He notices that Lan Jingyi is holding something in front of him.
“What is that?” asks Jiang Cheng.
“It’s a surprise for you,” says Lan Jingyi, as he places a small book on Jiang Cheng’s hands.
He thumbs under the cover with curiosity; he lifts it and notices it’s actually a hollowed-out book. Jiang Cheng discovers a detailed waist up portrait of himself and traces a meticulous array of small petals of bellflowers over it. They form a beautiful blend of purple and blue, organized to give the impression of fine articles of clothing over the outlined figure.
Jiang Cheng presses his fingertips against the transparent film that covers the drawing and asks Lan Jingyi “When was this portrait made? Who painted it?”
“I couldn’t help noticing Jiang-zongzhu’s graceful motions through the calm waters when I arrived earlier than usual in our latest meeting, so I tried to capture the piece by memory” explains Lan Jingyi. Then, he takes one of the hair clasps from Jiang Cheng’s hair with a swirl of his wrist.
Lan Jingyi settles the pint-sized ornament close to the portrayal. Gradually, the movement of the array of petals plays out before their eyes. At first, it causes a shift of the pigments of the robes, and then, as if they were leaves falling from a tree, they are lost from view.
“It will be more accurate this way.”
After the flowers disappear from the picture, the vanished gown leaves the very naked torso of his portrait in plain view.
“Lan-zongzhu!” exclaims Jiang Cheng, startled.
“It’s all in the name of artistic freedom, and in the benefit of capturing a mesmerizing subject,” says Lan Jingyi, moving closer to the man, “and I am well aware you are familiar with capturing the essence of something.”
Jiang Cheng looks at him with questioning eyes, trying to calm the beat of his heart, given their closeness.
“I admit grass after a rain shower is a close call. It would be my pleasure to assist you in getting an authentic scent from Cloud Recesses, you just have to ask.”
Lan Jingyi places the pin back to Jiang Cheng’s hair and utters “Maybe you can help me with a fragrance from Lotus Pier in return?”